Culminations
by novella814
Summary: Harry Potter crossover. What's Ed to do when he is given the charge of three aurors sent to form an alliance with Amestris, on top of Winry being a hostage, becoming a key factor in Father's grand plans, and trying to regain his and Al's bodies? ABANDONED
1. Salutations

**Culminations**

_**Chapter One – Salutations**_

**Note: **_This story is set in the _mangaverse_, and is in keeping with the Japanese releases. This means that this _will_ have major spoilers for up to and including Chapter 70. This means, if you do not know that is Pride, back away now! Links to scanlations of the entire series are available in my profile if you need to catch up/read the manga._

* * *

"Just _what_ is the deal with trains?" Ron ranted, his voice barely audible over the clattering wheels of the steam engine. "I mean there's the Hogwarts Express, trains across Britain, trains across Europe, the Transdimensional Railway, and look…! We're on yet _another_ train!" 

"It's not _that_ bad," Harry contradicted, fighting to hide the grin prompted by his friend's moans and groans. "At least this one has cushioned seats in first class. The Transdimensional one didn't even have a proper number of seats."

"That's because it's used so rarely, the Transdimensional Railway only expects to receive a few passengers, so it only prepares enough seats for that amount. Anyway, I'm more concerned about _where_ this train is headed than about the number we've ridden on in recent years," Hermione pointed out.

The three 20-year old aurors were seated on a fast-moving steam train headed for North City, Amestris. Seated in first class, they received gilt compartments reminiscent of those on the Hogwarts Express.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I can't believe Fuehrer President Bradley just brushed us off like that. Are we, ambassadors seeking aid in war, really that unimportant?"

"Instead of bringing us into his war council and discussing a possible alliance that we were sent to form, he shoves us off onto some _Major_ up north, and says that the guy will 'show us around,'" Hermione continued for her friend.

"Who is this 'Major Elric' person we're supposed to meet, anyway?" Ron asked. "Do you know, Hermione?"

"Well," she began, tugging a brochure out of the folds of her cloak, "According to this pamphlet, he's a state alchemist, the youngest one ever to pass the certification exam."

"Eeh? Pretty impressive."

"Yup. Apparently he's a bit of a prodigy. In fact, I think he's a little like Harry," Hermione confessed thoughtfully.

"..but, I'm not a prodigy!" Harry protested. It was true; if their year _had_ possessed a prodigy, it probably would have been Hermione.

"Of course not!" she laughed, waving his comment off. Harry was a bit hurt; did she really think him _that_ dumb? "I didn't mean it like that. What I meant was that even at a very young age, Harry was admired and called 'The Chosen One'. The same appears to be true for Major Elric: the citizens love him and call him the 'Alchemist of the People.'"

"Oh?" Harry and Ron said in unison.

"Wait!" Harry said suddenly, being struck by a realization from all that Hermione had said. "How old is this 'Major Elric', anyway?" he asked.

"…" Hermione read over the pamphlet, eyes crossing the page at a furious rate as she searched for an age. "…fifteen," she announced at last.

"Oh no!" Ron moaned, shaking his head dispiritedly. "This kid is _five_ years younger than us!"

"Surely he won't be _too_ incompetent. After all, the state alchemist position is selected by audition, so I'm sure that they wouldn't let anyone without the proper qualifications take the job," Hermione attempted to reason.

"Come off it, Hermione," Harry groaned. "This is the _government_ that we're talking about here. And tell me, when have governments ever shown any sense?"

"Next to never!" Ron finished in agreement.

Hermione sighed. "I suppose you're right. Let's just hope for the best, shall we?"

The sun had long since started slipping below the horizon when their train pulled into the station at North City. A thin layer of snow was starting to gather upon the ground from the light sprinkle that was fluttering from the darkening sky above.

As the engine squealed to a stop, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood to gather their luggage from the racks above their seats, using the opportunity to stretch their infrequently used legs. Down the corridor, a conductor's faint call of, "North City Station, last stop, everyone off!" could be heard.

The trio disembarked with a small smattering of other passengers, most of which were in military uniform.

"I'm already starting to get sick of those outfits," Ron commented, "and we haven't even been here a month."

The trio dragged their luggage through the snow over to the warm, welcoming stationhouse, now grateful for the warmth provided by their heavy auror cloaks.

"Nice to know these things came in handy at some point," Harry said, tugging his cloak more tightly around his body.

"Despite the awful color," Ron added under his breath.

"You simply don't like them because the color of your hair makes the purple look maroon," Hermione reproved.

"It does!" Ron insisted.

Two stern faced officers awaited the shivering young adults inside the station. Through the frosted window panes a car was seen waiting, belching warm exhaust into the frigid air. The two men silently led their charges out to the car, which seemed awfully old fashioned to Harry, Ron, and Hermione's senses. They handed them over to the waiting driver with a curt, "Lieutenant Fermin will drive you to the fort," and left without even an exchange of names.

The bumpy drive up to the fort in the gathering darkness was bathed in silence, save for a few half-hearted conversation attempts by the Trio, which soon faded back into nothing.

"Wonder what the fortress will be like."

"Dunno."

"According to what I've read, it's supposed to be pretty impressive, and even that is said to be nothing compared o its commander."

"Yeah…"

The sun had fully dipped out of sight by the time the car had rumbled to a stop. Dark, heavy clouds poured copious amounts of pure glistening white snow down to coat what already layered the ground. The swirling large flakes coupled with the dark sky served only to bring visibility down to the minimum extent, successfully masking the true extent of the monstrous fortress before them.

Lieutenant Fermin ushered Harry and company past the legions of guards blocking the broad, brightly lit gate. As it was hauled open, he explained, "Major General Armstrong has already received word of your arrival from the Fuehrer. She will greet you upon entry." He led them into the fortress.

"Whoa…!" Ron breathed quietly, his mouth hanging open in amazement. "This is _some_ place!"

"Yeah," Harry agreed fervently, attempting to look all directions at once. "It's enormous!"

"The architecture is astounding," Hermione seconded, "especially taking into consideration Amestris' current level of technological advancement."

"It is important for Briggs Fortress to uphold the highest standards and most up-to-date technology," Fermin agreed as he led them down a dimly lit corridor. Was that a hint of pride that Harry detected in his tone? "We serve as the creators and protectors of Amestris' northernmost border."

He slowed to a sudden stop, causing the Trio to come to a rather bumbling halt behind him as they struggled not to stumble over each other, for they had been trotting at a rather speedy pace before.

"Major General, sir!" Lieutenant Fermin snapped to attention.

"Lieutenant Fermin, is it? I suppose that that those three are the three foreigners that are supposed to be ambassadors?"

When Harry had envisioned the fearsome Major General Armstrong, who could make her subordinates cower in fear at the very mention of her name (Voldemort, anyone?), the woman who stood before him was not exactly what came to mind. He had met her brother while they had been in Central (Major Armstrong had reminded him a bit of Hagrid, for some odd reason) and had been expecting the elder sister to be large, masculine, and sporting pink sparkles.

But this woman…was (in the words of a _guy_) a beauty. Unfortunately, her beauty resembled that of a tiger…it may look pretty, but the murderous aura that surrounded it screamed, "No touchie!" The two large men looming on either side of her helped to support that feeling.

"Yes sir!" Fermin replied smartly.

Armstrong narrowed her eyes, her cold gaze surveying Ron, before moving onto Hermione and coming to rest on Harry. "They don't look like much. The Fuehrer sent them, you say?"

"Yes sir!"

The Major General considered a moment, before snapping her head up and commanding, "Throw them into the prison."

Harry's eyes barely had time to widen in shock before the two brutes and a rather apologetic looking Lieutenant Fermin stepped up to clasp his and his friends' hands behind their backs.

"I'll come visit them later," Armstrong said, spinning on her heel and turning to go in the direction opposite that of the one to which Harry and company were being half pushed, half dragged. Already several meters away, she turned back around and paused before adding, "Put them in the cell next to Elric, if you don't mind."

Harry's mind barely had time to flash recognition at the name before Major General Armstrong vanished out of sight and he was dragged down the other way by one of her apparent bodyguards.

"You know how I said I was annoyed that the Fuehrer shoved us off up here?" Harry questioned in an annoyed undertone.

"Yeah?" Ron and Hermione confirmed, careful not to grab the attentions of the various guards situated around their prison.

"Well, I'm even _more_ annoyed that the oh-so-nice lady in charge of this dump threw us into these cages before we even had a chance to introduce ourselves!" he growled angrily.

"Amen," Ron agreed, nodding his head.

"Well, Major General Armstrong _is_ known for making snap judgments and for being highly distrustful."

"Huh?!" Harry glanced around frantically for the source of the sheepish sounding voice. It had seemed far too young to belong to any of the guards outside, who fortunately appeared to be paying the prisoners no attention.

"It's me, in the cell next to you," the disembodied voice replied, now sounding more distinct nearer to one wall.

"Oh!" Ron exclaimed. "You mean that you're that guy in the giant suit of armor? Shouldn't you sound older?"

Harry remembered now; in all the confusion of being locked up, he had caught a glimpse of a large man in armor in one of the nearby cells.

"Yeah, that's me, and you aren't the first person to have said that," their neighbor said, sounding rather embarrassed. "I must stick out a lot for you to remember me like that."

"Nah," Ron reassured, "it's just that you don't see armor like that every day."

Suddenly, Harry remembered Armstrong's words from earlier: _'Put them in the cell next to Elric, if you don't mind.' _ Did that mean this boy was…? "Are you called 'Elric', by any chance?" he asked. The voice sounded about the right age.

"Yeah…" came the reply. "Why do you ask?"

"Would you happen to have any relation to Major Edward Elric?" Harry demanded, ignoring the confused looks that Ron and Hermione were sending him.

"I'm his younger brother, Alphonse Elric, actually," Alphonse replied. "What do you want with Niisan?"

Hermione took over. "We were sent to meet him by Fuehrer President Bradley," she explained. "Do you have any idea where your brother is?"

"By the Fuehrer, huh?" Alphonse's voice muttered darkly. "Actually, I have no idea where Niisan is, though he must be in Briggs somewhere. He used to be locked up with me, but Major Kimblee let him out yesterday so that Winry could make him some Northern-use automail, and I haven't seen him since."

"Too bad, that," Harry sighed. Now, if only they had some way of contacting Edward. Their wands were not an option, for the Trio had been relieved of all pointy and potentially lethal objects (long wooden sticks included) before being tossed into their cell.

A loud commotion outside the prison door broke short the conversation with Alphonse.

"Let me in to see my brother!" an angry voice demanded, clearly floating through the thick door.

"I'm sorry, sir," one of the poor guards attempted to reason, "but we were given orders to not let anyone see the prisoners—"

"Look, Kimblee told me that I was allowed to visit my brother. Do you want me to drag him here and tell you himself? I doubt that he'll be very happy."

"No sir, but you must understand—"

"Oi, if you don't let me in, I can just transmute a door for myself!"

"Ah, that's not necessary! We'll let you in!"

"Good!"

The door burst open, followed by a flustered guard and a very annoyed—very _short_—boy in a long red coat, blonde braid bouncing behind him.

"Speak of the devil," Alphonse could be heard muttering under his breath. Louder, with a hint of an exaggerated sigh in his tone he asked, "Niisan, did you really have to put up such a fuss?"

"Niisan…?" Harry realized what this implied.

"They refused to let me see you!" the boy defended. Through the bars of his cell, Harry could see him accompany the comment with a glare directed towards the neighboring cell. The boy then turned to face Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Al… Who are these people?" Edward Elric demanded.

* * *

**A/N:**

-Timeline…One day after Chapter 70. People at Briggs should find out about Pride as soon as I can get Riza to spread the news, lol.  
-Obviously, the HP-tachi is 20 (with Hermione at 21) and Aurors. Voldie-chan is still undefeated.  
-Only Japanese in this fic will be "niisan" and "sensei". Why? Amestrians speak _English_, as is very obvious in the Japanese manga, if you care to look at it. This means that they will most certainly not be speaking random pieces of Japanese. However, "big brother" and "teacher" used in place of names when talking is not commonly done in English, so the Japanese alternatives sound a great deal better. Again, I'm only doing this for the flow of the story.  
-Please review and tell me your opinion!!


	2. Introductions and Explanations

**Culminations**  
_**Chapter Two – Introductions and Explanations**_

**Note:** As mentioned last chapter, this story will contain spoilers for manga Ch. 71 and up. Links to scanlations can be found in my profile.  
**Disclaimer:** I forgot to do this last time. Oops. Fullmetal Alchemist (_Hagane no Renkinjutsushi_) belongs to Arakawa Hiromu while Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

* * *

"They were sent to meet you by the Fuehrer," Al explained. "I never caught their names, though." 

'_By Bradley?'_ Ed thought. That didn't bode well, nor did it make him trust the three adults any more. "So who are you, then?" he demanded, glaring at them. They looked foreign, though not greatly so. Still, they seemed shifty…like Ling. And since Wrath…

"I'm Harry Pot—" The black-haired one, who seemed to be the commander of the small group, started to introduce himself.

"Excuse me, sir," the nervous guard interrupted, laying a cautious hand on Ed's left shoulder to get his attention. "But you said that you were only going to speak with your brother…"

Ed glared at him. The guard inched back nervously.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" The annoyed exclamation came, surprisingly enough, from the foreigner, 'Harry Pot'. "Look, when you stripped us of our belongings, you uncovered a letter. Give it to Major Elric; his name should be on the front, anyway."

The guard seemed uncertain of what to do. Ed decided to decide for him. "Well? Get the letter!"

"But—"

"A state alchemist is giving you a command! Retrieve the letter!" It was not good to abuse his power, and Ed knew it, even as he reached a hand into his pocket. Doing so made him uncomfortable, but, as he had discovered before, sometimes the occasion called for it.

"Yes, sir!" the guard yelped, darting away to a locked file cabinet. He withdrew a jangling set of keys from his uniform, opened a drawer, and started paging through it, meanwhile mumbling nonsense words under his breath.

"P…p…po…pot…potter!"

He came up with a bulging file. The guard opened it up, rummaging through it before coming up with a neat white envelope. Ed watched him impatiently over his shoulder as he did so. '_What are those weird stick things?'_ he wondered, looking curiously from a distance at said objects.

"Here you go sir," the guard said, handing him the message. Ed couldn't help but question how such a wimpy man managed to survive at a place like Briggs. He was willing to bet a good deal of his salary (which was quite large) that the guard was fairly new to Major General Armstrong's domain.

"What does it say, Niisan?" Al asked eagerly as his brother removed and unfolded the letter. Ed ignored both him and the foreigners, who watched with baited breath, and began reading out loud.

"_To Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist:_

_You have been assigned the care and leadership of Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger, ambassadors from the nation of England for one and a half month's time. By order of the Fuehrer, all other assignments are voided until after this date, December 1, 1914._

_Please treat this assignment as well as our guests with consideration. You are aware of the consequences for both you and us should you fail. If you must, please show this letter to Major Zolf J. Kimblee and/or Major General Olivier Milla Armstrong._

"It's signed, '_Fuehrer President King Bradley_'," Ed finished, a feeling of unease settling within the pit of his stomach. He understood the letter's implications all too well. If the ambassadors were treated rudely, their country might deem it fit to declare war on Amestris. Such a thing would horribly mess up Father and the Homunculi's plans, for, as far as he was aware, the only bloodshed on schedule was to soon take place up at Briggs. Ed also caught the consequences that he would suffer, too. If he disobeyed orders, Winry would—well, it was best not to think about that. The only bright side that he could see was that Kimblee's orders would have to get put off for a month and a half…not that that was reassuring in the least, but it was still better than nothing.

"Do you think that we can trust them, Niisan?" Al asked hesitantly. "After all, they _were_ sent by the Fuehrer." To the casual listener, this would seem like a vote of confidence, but to Ed, it was clearly saying, 'Are they already sided with the Homunculi?'

Ed considered for a moment, weighing his options. Apparently Potter, Weasley, and Granger wanted to know too, for they all watched him with carefully guarded eyes. If Winry's life had not been teetering in the balance, there would have been no question; he would have refused immediately. But with his childhood friend being flaunted under his nose as the enemy's trump card… "Guard, release the prisoners."

"Eh! What?"

"You heard me. I said to let the foreigners out."

"But sir, I'm afraid that you don't have the authority to—" the guard stuttered, jitteriness showing on all angles of his face.

"Actually," Ed corrected, "You'll find that I do, for the Fuehrer President put _me_, not Major General Armstrong in charge of their wellbeing, so she has no authority to lock them up. I'm positive that you heard his letter just as well as the rest of us did."

"Y, yes sir!" the guard stuttered. He took out the key ring from before and, after fumbling about for the correct one, unlocked the cell that contained Potter, Weasley, and Granger.

The three purple-robed people filed out of their prison in obvious relief as Ed watched them with suspicious scrutiny. "Ah! Freedom sure feels good!" Blackie—Potter yawned with a stretch. '_Yup,_' Ed thought, '_a definite accent there._'

"We've barely been there two hours," reproved the girl, Granger? It was so hard to tell with those foreign names, sometimes. "Anyway, shouldn't you thank the nice boy who let us out?"

"Ah, yes!" Potter agreed. "Thank you for releasing us. I think, though, that we were interrupted before we could properly introduce ourselves." He shot an annoyed glance at the guards. "I'm Harry Potter, and these two are my companions, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. We are junior members of the 2nd Auror Division of London, England. Our commander is currently Nymphadora Tonks. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Major Elric." Potter extended his right hand in greeting.

Ed warily accepted the handshake with his own gloved right palm, but couldn't help but feel that something was off. "Just so you know, I'm not doing this out of the kindness of my heart," he warned, dropping the man's hand as quickly as possible. "I'm only baby-sitting you because I've been ordered to. Once the month and a half is up, you're off of my hands for good."

"I understand perfectly," Potter said, smiling sweetly.

"Good." The fact that the man stood at least as tall as Mustang and shared far too many features with the colonel did not help to calm Ed in the least.

"Now," Potter asked, the pleasant grin—'_Probably trained him in it,_' Ed thoughy venomously—still plastered upon his face, "where are we off to first? You are our 'tour guide' of sorts, correct?"

"_I_," Ed growled, emphasizing the first-person pronoun, "am going to speak with my brother, something that you prevented me from doing previously. _You_," this time the accent lay on the second-person, "are going to wait over there." He stabbed a finger in the vague direction of a hard, wooden bench. Potter and his companions trailed over to it, Orangey (Weasley, was it?) glaring at Ed as he went.

'_Oh_.' So that's what had seemed off. Turning to the guard, who had attempted to (almost successfully) fade into the background during the exchange, Ed demanded, "Why are their hands free? Ours weren't." He gestured violently at Al for an example.

"Well, sir," the guard began nervously, "as far as we can tell, they can't do alchemy without a circle like you and your brother do…"

"Hmph," Ed snorted, turning back to Al.

"So?" Al asked in an undertone, unable to prevent his curiosity from seeping into his voice. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"You know that _they_—" there was no need to explain who 'they' were, for Al immediately understood "—brought Winry here so that they could be sure that I'd do their bidding, right?"

"Yeah…" Al agreed warily. Ed could tell, even through the armor, that the younger boy was wondering what his older brother was getting at.

"Well, I told her everything."

"What?!" Al exclaimed, staring at his brother in shock.

"Yeah," Ed admitted sheepishly. "I felt that I was only hurting her by keeping her in the dark about this… And I told her what I'm about to tell you, too. I managed to get Kimblee to let you go with me to find Scar—"

"Find Scar? What do you mean?"

"Wait, let me finish," Ed said grimly. "He's agreed to let you come because he thinks that your armor body won't be affected by Scar's human-decomposition alchemy. Winry managed to convince them to let her along somehow, as well. However, that isn't all. Kimblee says the Fuehrer wants me to do three things: find Scar, find Marcoh, and…" He paused shortly before carrying on. "…And proceed with creating the final point of the circle here at Briggs."

"You mean…?" Al gasped. The unspoken question was clearly interpreted by Ed: _"They want you to cut a bloody swath upon Briggs?"_

"Yes," Ed verified bleakly. "Kimblee wants me to fulfill my duty as a human weapon, a dog of the military. He wants to create another Ishbal… Right down to the secret use of a Philosopher's Stone. He tried to bribe me with one, you know."

"A Philosopher's Stone?" Al gasped. "Niisan, you didn't—"

"Of course not," Ed interrupted, "but I made Kimblee think I did."

"But won't this mission that you now have delay all of that?" Al asked, sounding slightly confused.

"Yes, but unfortunately, it will also keep us from finding that Rentanjutsu girl. And another thing…I'm supposed to show the foreigners around the entire country…not just Briggs. And I don't know if they'll let me take you and Winry with me; I doubt that those previous agreements will carry over."

The full gravity of the situation seemed to strike Al at that moment. "You mean…?"

"Yeah. I might end up being forced to leave you and Winry here," Ed said, his frustration over the whole situation written clearly on his features. "And I also have a month and a half to put a stop to this cursed plan that has been set in motion."

"When will you be leaving, Niisan?" Al queried.

"Probably not for a week," Ed admitted. "I know that Winry wants at least that long to make sure that I'm adjusting to my new automail properly. After that, I guess I'll drag the foreigners down to Central and see if I can meet up with Mustang for a bit. But remember, I'll try to convince them to let you and Winry go with me."

"Okay," Al said, though he didn't sound too reassured. "Just make sure you come back for your birthday, okay, Niisan?"

"My birthday?" Ed questioned. "I nearly forgot. It's about two weeks from now, October 27th, isn't it?"

"Geeze, Niisan!" Al exclaimed with exaggerated frustration. "Forgetting your own sixteenth birthday like that!"

"Look, I'm sorry, Al!" Ed exclaimed. Then his expression softened slightly. "You know that I'd much rather prefer to have you by my side where I know where you are instead of having you safe out of my sight."

"And is the same true for Winry?" Al asked knowingly, giving his brother a sidelong glance.

Ed could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. "Well, er, I'm not quite sure of that yet…"

Al laughed. "I'm only teasing you, Niisan," he admonished. "Don't take it so seriously. And since you can't decide, it only means that you need to destroy the opposition before you have to."

"Yeah, Al," Ed agreed, nodding his head. "Now, let me see to those foreigners." He marched over to where Potter, Granger, and Weasley were squished onto the old wooden bench, holding a quiet conversation among themselves.

"Well, come on," he beckoned gruffly. "What are you waiting for?"

"Are we leaving?" Weasley asked eagerly.

"Not for another week," Ed corrected.

"Why?" Potter demanded impatiently.

'_I have to put up with these people for a month and a half?'_ Ed thought dispiritedly. "I have something that needs to be done," he responded out loud.

"Where are we going now, then?" Weasley wondered. Ed got the impression that he was far from being the brightest of the three.

"To talk with Major General Armstrong and Kimblee to get out of what I was currently doing, and to see if I can take Al and Winry along with me when I take you people around the country."

"Oh," Weasley said.

"And," Ed added, "I suppose that I've got to find you three lodgings for the week."

"Wait!" Granger yelped as Ed moved to open the door. "What about our confiscated items?!"

"What about them?" Ed asked, genuinely confused. "The only things in that file were a bunch of papers and a couple of old sticks."

"Those were our identification papers and our wands!" Potter exclaimed, sounding scandalized as his eyes grew wide in horror. Was it just Ed, or did he sound a bit surprised, too?

"Fine, fine," Ed grumbled, relenting a bit. "Guard! Give them back their items, will you?"

"Yes, sir!" Ed did feel a bit guilty about the anxiety present in the man's tone and posture, but really, he couldn't help his personality, could he?

"Here, you go sirs, madam," the guard said as he passed Potter and his friends their papers and those weird 'wand' things. The three accepted them with a polite 'thank you' before looking expectantly at Ed.

"What?" he demanded, already feeling the side effects of the day's events coming on…a headache.

"Aren't you supposed to be our guide?" Potter asked.

"Yeah," Weasley agreed, "we don't know our way around."

"You said something about meeting Major General Armstrong and …Kimblee, was it?" Granger pointed out.

Ed groaned, placing his right hand over his forehead. He savored the cool touch of the automail seeping through his glove to his skin for a moment. Could he ever get a break?

"Follow me, then."

* * *

**A/N:**

-Timeline edit. For those of you who've read it, this chapter contains allusions to Chapter 71 of Hagaren. However…it clearly doesn't fit in with the manga timeline. So…this story will probably be a messed up mix of AU canon…meaning it'll follow _my_ timeline, but contain information from the current manga chapter. Understand? Good.  
-Heh, you have no idea how many revisions I made to make this fit in with 71…I had to totally rewrite a good portion of it.  
-I'm gonna be alternating between Harry and Ed's POVs, with the occasional Riza, Mustang, and possibly Winry or Hermione.  
-Okay, I know that my dates are utterly impossible if you really think about it, but you know what? I'm too lazy to care. This story is already a bit AU, so something as unnoticeable as that shouldn't matter in the least.


	3. Ponderings

**Culminations**  
_**Chapter Three – Ponderings**_

**Note:** This story will contain spoilers for manga Ch. 71 and up. Links to scanlations can be found in my profile.  
**Disclaimer:** Fullmetal Alchemist (_Hagane no Renkinjutsushi_) belongs to Arakawa Hiromu while Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

* * *

Something was bothering Harry Potter. That _specific_ something that was annoying him so much happened to be the subject of magic. Or, if one wanted to have a bit more precise of an answer, it would be 'exactly how much a certain Edward Elric new of magic'.

Nothing had seemed off at first when Elric had come bursting into the prison, demanding to know who they were. Of course, Harry's scar, the lightning bolt figure that had become a rallying point for wizarding-Britain, had not been visible at the time, and even if it had been so, it would have been completely understandable for it not to have been recognized in a foreign dimension. Even the talk of alchemy, about which Hermione had rambled on extensively for hours after her discovery of it, was not overly unusual.

The thing that _had_ struck him as odd was the boy's utter ignorance of wands. The wand, as any wizard could tell you, was the basis of magical control. Though all magic users had naturally free-flowing energy, it required the concentrating power of the wood and the amplifying power of the magical element contained within to actually perform a spell.

Therefore, any and all wizards, and even most muggles, had the capability of recognizing a wand…no matter how exotic they got. But apparently, Major Elric could not. Nor did he bat an eye at the word 'auror', which nowadays got at least a glimmer of respect or disgust.

Thus, Harry wondered as he trailed behind the object of his ponderings with his two companions, whether Major Elric had any knowledge or even _notion_ of magic at all.

He was not quite sure what to make of their guide. He seemed to be quite temperamental, though rather doting and faithful to his younger brother. Harry still wondered in what manner he was a prodigy enough to join the military at the age of twelve.

Harry also wondered who the 'Winry' girl that he had overheard Elric mention was. A girlfriend, perhaps? If so, the auror could not fathom why she would be at a place like Briggs, unless she was another military prodigy, of course.

And then, there was the present.

"Er, Major Elric?" Hermione questioned, breaking the silence that had reigned as they traversed the steadily rising path.

"Don't call me that," the blonde growled, not even bothering to look at her as he continued walking.

"Excuse me?" she demanded, looking rather affronted. Harry couldn't blame her. Elric was being quite rude; he was certain that none of _them_ had been that rude as teenagers.

"I said, 'Don't call me that,'" Elric repeated. "You can call me 'Fullmetal', 'Elric', 'Edward', or even just 'Ed', as long as it isn't 'Major'."

"But," Hermione said, attempting to rectify her mistake, "I thought that you—"

"The title's mainly for ceremonial pomp. We human weapons don't deserve rank like that." The comment sounded oddly bitter and angry to Harry and the mention of 'human weapons' unsettled him a great deal. "I don't care if you're rude," Elric smiled sadly, his face relaxing a bit in remembrance of some past event. "After all, I didn't do it for the rank."

"So, Ma—er, Edward, um, are we near…wherever it is we're headed?" Hermione retried.

"Yes. Make a right here." The Trio turned sharply to follow him, all coming to rest in of a plain looking office door.

"This is Ki—Major Kimblee's office," Elric explained. Harry could sense an aura of excited nervousness surrounding the boy. "I'm going to check and see if he's in."

Elric rapped hesitantly on the door.

"Come in," a masculine voice drawled lazily.

Elric pushed open the door, leaving Harry and the rest to file in in his wake.

"The Fullmetal Alchemist again? And who are these other people?" asked the man seated at the desk, who Harry assumed to be Major Kimblee. The wan was smirking languidly, dressed in a white suit that was an unexpected relief from the plethora of military dress. A long, black ponytail swung out from the back of his head.

"I have a letter from the Fuehrer President regarding the orders that you gave me yesterday," Elric replied, ignoring Kimblee's question. The tension between the two was palpable.

"Really?" Kimblee demanded, sounding a bit intrigued. "Hand it over."

Elric reached a hand into his pants' pocket and withdrew the letter that had been delivered by the Trio and handed it over to Kimblee. "Here."

Kimblee took it and began scanning it, a frown growing on his face as he did so.

"Are you sure that this is legitimate?" he asked, reviewing the contents a second time.

"Yes," Elric replied. Harry wondered how he could tell. "It has the trademark watermark on the paper. It's currently unable to be duplicated."

"Hmm…" Kimblee grimaced. "This will certainly set things back a good bit. I have no idea what the President is thinking but—" a malicious grin grew on his face, a maniacal glint glowing in his eye "—I dare say that it'll be interesting."

Elric looked disgusted, and Harry couldn't help but feel similarly. The younger boy paused, hesitating for a second, before saying, "I want to take Al and Winry with me."

Kimblee narrowed his eyes. "What makes you think that I'll allow that?" he asked, seemingly forgetting that the Trio was still present.

Elric looked rather desperate, although his sinking posture indicated that he had expected this result. "Why not?" he demanded.

"I'm afraid that Scar will most likely not be bothering to follow you about, so there is no need for Alphonse to accompany you, and Miss Rockbell shall serve no purpose that I can see. If you must have your automail watched, I'm sure that you can spare a week showing the foreigners around Briggs here or you can try finding another mechanic for the time being."

Elric, Harry could see, was furious. "But—"

"If you were worried for their safety," Kimblee smirked, "I assure you that no harm will befall them as long as you do not give it due reason to."

By now, Harry's 'hero sense', as Ginny had playfully nicknamed it, was tingling. This was blackmail of some sort! He was nearly positive of it!

"Fine," Elric growled. "I'll obey."

"Very good," Kimblee said smoothly. "I'm glad to see that you're learning to become a properly trained dog of the military."

Elric growled even more fiercely, only contributing to the 'dog' persona, before he stomped out of the room with a curt, "Come on," to the three aurors.

As they walked down the hallway, cautiously keeping away from the fuming Elric, Harry had the nerve to ask, "What was that about?"

"Nothing!" the boy snapped with a glare. "Just keep walking!"

"Geeze," Harry mumbled in annoyance. There was no call to be rude, even if you _were_ being threatened with the safety of your brother and girlfriend.

"We're going to find Major General Armstrong," Elric continued, ignoring the comments of dissention that were being quietly (and politely) uttered by the Trio. "I doubt that Kimblee will bother informing her, and we need to get you people cleared by her first, before we do anything else."

"Why are you going to talk to the Major General _after_ the Major?" Hermione asked him, pointing out what was, in Harry's opinion, a very acute observation.

"Because Kimblee is currently reporting _directly_ to the Fuehrer, even if he is only a Major," Elric explained curtly. "Left."

As they followed him around the corner, Ron asked, "Do you know if there's any chance that the Fuehrer will accept our request?"

"What request?" Elric asked. "The letter, as you may recall, didn't specify."

"You didn't receive notice of our arrival previously?" Hermione demanded.

"No," Elric said. "If you haven't noticed, Briggs is pretty isolated."

"But Major General Armstrong indicated that she had already known of our coming," the girl insisted. "If she did, why didn't she tell you, too?"

Elric shrugged. "Major General Armstrong has been known to lie on occasion—or even more often. It wouldn't surprise me to know that she was just being untruthful to disguise her own ignorance. But back to my original topic. Why are you here?"

"As you may or may not know," Hermione began, "our country, the United Kingdom, is at war, against a great and dark power." Harry groaned mentally, and he was sure that Ron did so, too; it was the exact same speech that Hermione had worked together with Tonks to prepare for their meeting with the Fuehrer President.

"We have found ourselves unable to properly fight the opposition with our current forces and therefore have approached the nation of Amestris in order to seek military aid," concluded the speech. Tonks had agreed that it should be short, relatively simple, and to the point. No need to beat around the bush with what they wanted.

Elric paused in his trot, looking back at the Trio. "Optimistically," he said bluntly, "you haven't got a chance."

"What?!" Harry exclaimed in horror, halting in his tracks. "How can you determine that so quickly?"

"In case you haven't realized," Ed said scathingly, keeping his head straight as he continued to walk, "Amestris has enough bloodshed going on right now as it is without becoming involved in that of another country."

"I see," Harry said, attempting to be diplomatic while still hiding his true disappointment. The war against Voldemort had carried on for five relentless years. Harry had to admit that he had fostered a twinkle of hope that the Amestrians could relieve them from the long period of strife that seemed to linger ever on the horizon.

The '_clunk clunk!'_ of their footsteps continued to echo rhythmically as they persisted down the corridor in a heavy silence. Harry took the time to scan his surroundings, noting the doors that he passed, and the numerous turns and intersections. Soldiers and military officials occasionally rushed pass or leisurely strolled by, as well as some people in civilian clothes, who seemed as if they belonged, but whose purpose Harry couldn't place. He was forced to wonder just how big Briggs truly was. The outside, at least, was quite impressive.

Hermione and Ron, Harry noted, appeared to be doing the same as he was, staring around. Harry didn't doubt that Ron, the strategist of the group, was carefully surveying ways to escape or retaliate if they were attacked. He had a rather useful habit of doing that if they were in uncharted territories. Harry was sure that a potentially hostile—if the alliance talks didn't go over well—foreign nation with unknown powers and a rather violent history fell into that category.

War had its tolls.

Harry was more unsure of the past half-decade's effect on himself that that of others. Hermione was the brains, Ron the strategist, and he, Harry…was the leader? His friends had always insisted that people would always be willing to follow Harry. If not always because of his judgmental skills, but more because he was the type of person people trusted and felt no qualms about following to whatever end. Of course, those were Hermione's words, said with Ron nodding vigorously behind her. Harry, naturally, had blushed furiously while spluttering denials as Ginny laughed uproariously at his expression. Secretly, he was honored, for they had more faith in him than _he_ did.

Once again, though, he was in charge of a mission over which it didn't seem he had that much control. The power instead seemed to be in the hands of the short, fifteen-year-old boy in front of him, whose blonde braid bobbed up and down in his wake.

Or at least, it had been.

Elric drew to a stop in front of a deceptively plain-looking door. However, any doubts Harry might have had about it, though, were then banished by the burnished placard that stated that the room within belong to one 'Major General O. Armstrong'.

"Wait outside," Elric commanded the Trio, knocking curtly on the door. From within, the familiar voice of Armstrong bid his entry. He entered quickly, giving Harry no more time to glance at the office within than to catch a glimpse of a fairly bare room with sparse furnishings. Apparently, the encounter with Major Kimblee had made Elric decide to leave them outside for this second confrontation.

On the contrary, the conversation within appeared to be brief, without any need of raised voices. Without, Harry, Ron, and Hermione kept silent, all still consumed by their thoughts. Soon, though, Elric reappeared, this time in the company of a tall man in military garb.

To Harry's surprise, the man, who hid his eyes behind round, dark glasses, was the first he had seen whose skin appeared to be naturally dark, and not the result of extended lengths of time in the sun. Harry had wondered if Amestris was truly as un-diverse as it had seemed.

"Major Miles, here," Elric introduced, "will be talking you to your quarters." He withdrew a pen and a disheveled notebook from his coat pocket and scribbled a note on one of the few pages that was not earmarked. "I have some…business to attend to, but if you absolutely must contact me, I'll probably be here." He tore of the corner with the writing on it and handed it to Harry. "If not, just ask around. _Someone_ should know of my whereabouts."

With a stiff, formal nod to the Trio, Elric walked down the hall, leaving them in the custody of Miles.

* * *

**A/N:**  
-This story is going to be at least mild EdWin, despite the fact that Winry isn't going to be present that much (don't ask how I'm gonna manage it). If you don't like it, you should quit reading the manga, since it would definitely appear to be heading in that direction. :D  
-And yes, in response to one of my reviewers, the Trio (and Harry most noticeably) have all undergone noticeable changes as they've aged and participated in the war against Voldemort. So, if everyone seems darker and more serious, it's just because they're a couple of years older.  
-Sorry about the wait. On the bright side, Chapter Four is DONE!

**Next Time:**  
_Explanations and Shadows, Chapter Four_  
Ed brings Winry up-to-date, Riza worries, and the tour begins.


	4. Clarifications and Shadows

**Culminations**

_**Chapter Four – **__**Clarifications and Shadows**_

**Note:** This story will contain spoilers for manga Ch. 72 and up. Links to scanlations can be found in my profile.

**Disclaimer:** Fullmetal Alchemist (_Hagane no Renkinjutsushi_) belongs to Arakawa Hiromu while Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

* * *

"So that's just about it. I don't know why the responsibility has been given to _me_, or why they've decided to go back on their original plans for me, but I'm not complaining…too much."

Ed had just finished explaining to Winry about his new mission. She had taken it fairly calmly, refraining from commenting throughout the entire account. Now, she frowned up at Ed. They were conversing in the privacy of the room Winry had been given for the duration of her stay at Briggs. She was perched anxiously on the side of the bed while he lounged against the opposite wall, eyes downcast.

"It does seem a bit strange, doesn't it?" she said. "Do you suppose that it means that the Homunculi are willing to delay the completion of the transmutation circle?"

"That _would_ seem to be the only explanation," Ed admitted. "I've been thinking about it, and come to the conclusion that they really could have assigned the foreigners to any one of us higher ranking officials, and I'm sure that not _all_ of them are too busy to cope. Certainly at least _one_ has less relevant tasks then I do. Come to think of it, why not _Mustang_?" He grimaced at the thought; he could only imagine how the arrogant man would take such an assignment.

"Well," Winry considered, "I know it's not much of a justification, but maybe it's because you're the closest in age to them. After all, you said that they looked about twenty, right? That would make you only four years younger, right? And Mr. Mustang is almost thirty, but he's one of the youngest of the higher ranked officials."

"You're right; it _is_ a stupid idea," Ed scoffed, but his expression softened. "But other than something going wrong and them needing a delay, it's the only thing that seems remotely possible."

"But you're happy, right?" Winry asked. "No matter what the motivation is, this is still good for you?"

"Yeah," Ed confirmed with a scowl. "Scar and the rest I couldn't care less about, but it means that I'm going to miss out on a chance to get to that Rentanjutsu girl, and I don't know when I'll manage to get a second opportunity to look for her. I think that she's going to be really important to negating the Homunculi's alchemy, too. But if I ask to complete that mission before I leave, Kimblee might get suspicious. I don't think even revenge for Auntie and Uncle Rockbell would dissuade him."

"You're not leaving immediately?" Winry asked, sounding slightly surprised.

"No!" Ed exclaimed. "I have some things I need to get accomplished here at Briggs first. And," he added rather hesitantly, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks, "I thought that you'd appreciate it if I gave you some time to check how I'm adjusting to my new automail."

"Stupid," Winry teased playfully. "What will really matter is how it holds up in a fight. _But_—" she cut him off when he opened his mouth to apologize, "—the week will still be useful, and what I appreciate most is that you even thought to make the offer."

"Yeah, well, you know that I don't really want to leave you here alone," he replied gruffly, his cheeks still graced with a miniscule flush.

"Al will still be here," Winry reminded him almost admonishingly. "So I won't be completely alone."

"Yeah, but he can fend for himself," Ed pointed out. "And he can't really help you out when he's locked up and surrounded by armed guards. I'd also greatly prefer that he _not_ attempt a prison break unless absolutely necessary."

"Yeah," Winry agreed, giggling a bit. "I can almost see Al transmuting the bars of his prison, leaping from the ruins proclaiming, '_Winry! I have come to save you!'_ and looking like a knight in shining armor (thanks to the polishing oil I brought him, of course!)."

Ed glanced at Winry, and, envisioning the absurd event, they couldn't contain themselves. The pair shared a brief laugh at his younger brother's expense, but before long, Winry broke off, her smiling face molding into an unhappy frown.

"I suppose that that truly is all I am for you two: a hindrance. You wouldn't have to worry about being held down like this if I wasn't here," she said sadly.

Uncertain if she was about to cry, Ed began to grow flustered. _Why does she always have this effect on me?_ he wondered, carefully steering his mind away from certain comments made by certain Lieutenants.

"Don't think that you are a hindrance!" he berated the distraught girl, moving to sit next to her on the bed. "If it were not for you, I would not have two firm feet to stand on!"

"I suppose that's true," she said, smiling a bit. "But it still makes me sad to think that I am holding you back by my mere presence."

It was Ed's turn to frown. "Don't be. After all you've done for us, the least we—the least _I_ can do in return is to ensure your safety."

"Eh?" She looked up at him. Wait—_up_? Ed paused, confused, before shaking his head passing it off as some sort of mystification of the moment.

"You've always been there, offering us a place—and people, too—to return to, no matter where we've been, or for how long," he proceeded to explain. "It may not seem like we appreciate it much, but, how do I put it? Even though Mom's gone, it's really nice to have people who are still willing to accept us as family."

Winry smiled up at him again. "Wait a minute…" she said, narrowing her eyes. Ed's own pupils widened. Had he said something wrong? "Stand up."

He obeyed, rising from his place on the bed, before standing with his arms crossed, looking questioningly down at her. In turn, she stood up as well. "Take your shoes off," Winry commanded, kicking off her own boots.

"What now?" Ed demanded, wondering what she was getting at.

"Stand up straight."

Winry shifted her position until they stood back to back. Raising a hand, she carefully drew an imaginary line from the top of her head to his.

"Huh?" Ed asked as he felt her fingertips brush his hair.

"Thought so!" Winry exclaimed triumphantly.

"What?"

"You're taller than me now!" was her rejoinder.

"I am…?" Ed realized slowly, measuring the distance to see for himself. It was easily equal to almost eight or nine centimeters. "Wait," he glared, "I was _always_ taller than you!"

"Were not!" Winry retorted. "I've been taller than you for years, even if only by an inch or two!"

"Oh yeah?" he challenged. "I couldn't have grown that much in a couple of days."

"Well, maybe it the miracle of my _wonderful_, _light_, Northern-style automail!" Winry responded, grinning triumphantly.

"Yeah, right," Ed scoffed. "I've barely had _that_ two days! _Not_ long enough to make a difference."

'_CLANG!'_

"Are you insulting my automail, you jerk?!"

"Did I ever say that, automail freak?"

"You implied it, alchemy geek!"

"Hmph! At least you can't call me _short_ anymore!" Ed smirked, massaging the point on his head that Winry's wrench had made contact with.

"Oh, _yes_ I can!" she exclaimed haughtily. "Now at least you're average height—for a woman, that is!"

"WHO'RE YOU CALLING SO SHORT HE COULD BE MISTAKEN FOR A CUTE LITTLE GIRL?!"

"I'm glad things are back to normal in that respect, at least," Winry grinned happily, not realizing that her previous comment had, in a sense, been an insult to _her_ height as well.

Ed was, too, though he would never admit it. "Oh…" He had just remembered something that he had forgotten to mention to Winry. And as much as he was loath to break the relaxed mood that had developed in the room, he had promised to tell her everything, and this was included.

"What is it?" Winry asked him worriedly, her happy expression falling a bit. "Is something the matter?"

"Not really," Ed admitted. "I just remembered something that I suppose I ought to tell you."

"You see, you aren't the only important person being held hostage by the shadowed upper ranks of the military."

He went on to explain Lieutenant Hawkeye's role as the Fuehrer President's assistant, and how that position was nothing more than an excuse to put her at the Homunculi's mercy.

"Ms. Riza…" Winry said sadly. "So she's being used as a means for them to keep a firm hold on Mr. Mustang…"

Ed nodded unhappily.

Winry sighed dejectedly. "I wonder how she's doing right now…"

* * *

Despite the fact that it was nearing midnight, all the lights in the apartment were on, causing the few windows facing the street to stand out in stark contrast from the rest of the building, even through the curtains.

Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, a normally down-to-earth woman who didn't let much bother her, was sitting at her table, drinking a cup of warm tea. Her dog, Hayate, had sensed his mistress' distress and had come over to give her a 'kiss'. He was currently perched in Riza's lap, softly nuzzling her face.

The call from the Colonel had helped to dispel her fears…some, at least. She couldn't help but snort. "_I got drunk and bought a huge quantity of flowers._" How like the man. And then to expect her to take some of them, as well! She had declined, telling him that she didn't have any vases.

That was a lie, of course. She knew that there was an old vase of her mother's tucked into the brown box labeled 'dishes' that was sitting on her counter by the stove. However, if Colonel Mustang had come over, she was sure that she would not be able to dissuade his (accurate) beliefs that something was bothering her. She would also be equally hard pressed to explain the slash on her right cheek (it had already stopped bleeding, so she hadn't seen the point in covering it with a bandage) that that child—that _thing_—had given her.

That's right—Selim, the Fuehrer President's 'son', the original homunculus…_Pride_. The 'boy', who at first glance seemed to be nothing more than an overly bright, precocious child, but at second emitted such a murderous aura, he would make even the fiercest killers shrink back and cower in fear.

For a second, Riza wondered whether she was like the young man and his lady bodyguard—the ones from Xing. Ling and Ran Fan, who claimed to be able to sense Homunculi's auras. After all, the boy's 'mother' had seemed not to notice anything, nor had she seemed to believe that her 'son' was anything other than a normal, if a rather sharp, child. And after all, 'Selim' must have had contact with plenty of other normal humans who never noticed anything.

But all the same, Riza could not see how anyone could hope to miss that evil, deadly aura. And she knew that it was imperative that this information reach the ears of Roy Mustang.

"_I will always be watching you from the shadows."_

But how do you secretly exchange information when your observers are the very shadows themselves?

Riza knew that if the Colonel came to drop of her share of the flowers, he would press her for an explanation that she could not give. But he would be persistent and would refuse to give up. And Riza knew that, because he was Roy Mustang, despite her steadfast determination, there was a chance—small, it was true, but not too small to be overlooked—that she would give in and tell him.

"_You know what will happen if you let this out. Your companions and Colonel Mustang will not come out unscathed."_

And that was a small chance that she could not allow.

Riza knew it was pointless to try and sleep after her encounter at the President's mansion. And that was why she was sitting here, drinking tea, in the middle of the night with all the lights on.

Riza prided herself on being able to face most situations with a level head, steady hand, and sharp aim. But 'most situations' did not cover fat men and shapely women who refused to be killed and terrifying children who manipulated killing shadows and were more than capable of carrying out their threats.

In other words, Riza Hawkeye did not hold with the supernatural. Alchemy, of course, was not included in this category. After all, her father had been an alchemist of some mild renown, and after his passing she went on to serve in the military as a subordinate of his apprentice, Roy Mustang. But when that same alchemy was used to create superhuman _beings_ and small red stones out of human lives that granted unimaginable alchemic power, it became simply unnatural.

Understandably, Riza almost choked on her tea when a sudden rap at the door caused her to the jump in surprise just as she raised cup to her lips to take a fresh sip.

Carefully urging Hayate off her lap as she tightened her grip of her gun, Riza rose to unlatch the door, wondering who in their right mind would be calling on her at this time of night.

To her surprise, the one at her door was not some fearsome homunculus. Quite the opposite was Roy Mustang, who stood grinning sheepishly in the frame, and clutched in his grasp was a posy of flowers—in a delicately painted porcelain vase.

Seeing her shocked expression, he laughed uncomfortably. "They were too pretty for me to burn them all," he explained, gesturing at the flowers, "so I brought a vase."

* * *

"Briggs Fortress defends the border. The commanding officer here, Major General Armstrong, seeks for innovative ways to keep the military technology employed at the base at the peak of functionality," Ed recited, attempting to remember what he had been told when _he_ had been shown around the fortress.

He was currently starting his daunting task of showing the foreigners around Briggs, having made his way to where they were staying through trial and error earlier. Peering interestedly over his shoulder as he set a fast-paced trot through the brightly lit corridors were the three adults and Winry.

There was actually a fairly plausible excuse for the girl's presence. As soon has he had made a motion to leave, she had latched on to his coat. When he had turned back around, she had stubbornly announced that she was going with him, before hastily correcting herself to specify that it would only be within the confines of Briggs. Ed had wisely decided that it would be better not to argue, for he knew that Winry could be just as pigheaded as he if she felt the need for it.

"I don't know the layout of Briggs any more than they do," she announced, "and since it seems like I'm going to be here a while, I ought to learn my way around. And, this'll probably be the most use you get out of your automail while you're here, so it only makes sense for me to come along to observe!"

Ed had utterly no idea what he was supposed to be doing. "Show the foreign ambassadors around Briggs," was clear enough, but… "How the hell am I supposed to show a bunch of people around a giant place when I need a tour guide myself?" he grumbled. "And I'm supposed to do this for a whole _week_? I know I promised Winry, but… I'm definitely gonna try roping Falman into helping me out."

So far, Ed had just wandered aimlessly around, pointing out various landmarks, as well as spouting off the little history he knew of Briggs, as well as a bit about Amestris, too. Through the aid of random soldiers and officers they happened to pass, Ed had managed to guide the foreigners to the mess hall, the dormitories, the practice ground, the lowest level, where they had spotted Second Lieutenant Falman still knocking down icicles, and now, as he pulled open a door, the medical room, where the automail mechanics also made their abode. He hadn't seen the use in revisiting the prisons.

There were only one or two people inside, since it was about lunch time and most of the mechanics and doctors were on break; Ed was hopping to bring them all by the cafeteria when this part of the tour was done. Feeling thankful that he would only have a fairly small additional audience this time (in some of the other locations, everyone had stopped what they were doing to watch the famous Fullmetal Alchemist make a fool of himself), Ed started in on his speech.

"The engineers here at Briggs are responsible for equipping soldiers here with the durable, cold resistant, and _incredibly__light_ automail of the north," he began, smiling happily down at his incredibly light (and growth stimulating?) automail. "They—"

Winry cut him off. "Perhaps," she said grinning enthusiastically, "it would be best if _I_ take over this part of the tour. After all, I _am_ an automail mechanic."

Without even waiting for a response, she launched off into a rather undecipherable tangent about her beloved automail. The foreigners seemed to have varied amounts of comprehension. The woman, Granger, seemed to be listening intently, the leader, Potter, seemed to be attempting to make some sense of it, and Weasley, whose purpose Ed couldn't place, seemed to have given up completely.

"Automail is one of the most depended-on technologies in Amestris. Thanks to the hardworking, determined engineers, people who have been maimed in accidents or wars can get back on their feet with out the use of crutches or other supports! Military amputees can remain in active service! Automail can salvage the lives of those who have no other hope!

"Northern automail, of course, requires a special type of metal. The normal iron mix used in most southern automail would cause the user to get frostbite around their ports in record time. To make it, we combine duralumin, carbon fiber, nickel, and copper. Therefore, northern automail is light, durable, and incredibly cold-resilient."

The three foreigners stared at Winry, their jaws hanging slightly open—even Granger seemed to have gotten lost somewhere along the way, and Ed had gotten the impression that she was the brightest of the three. Ed couldn't blame them, though. Winry didn't look like the type of girl who could spout off such a speech until the words came pouring out from her mouth. (Not that that meant anything in particular, of course.)

"Ed, take your shirt off."

_What?!_ He blushed. He could feel the questioning eyes of the foreigners on him as he stared at her. Although he got what she _meant_, she really didn't have to phrase it like that.

"I want to show them your automail. Hurry up!" She had her wrench in hand, and Ed, wanting to spare himself the further embarrassment of being hit in front of total strangers, complied.

'_Why does it always come to this?'_ he wondered disparagingly. He was seated on a stool in only his pants and black undershirt while Winry waxed eloquently on about his arm, while the other mechanics occasionally stuck their noses in with a comment or two. The only relief he could see was that Winry hadn't decided to look at his leg (which would force him to strip down to his boxers)…yet.

He glanced discreetly at the three foreigners, looking to gauge their reactions. Automail was far from being an uncommon sight in Amestris, although he did get varied responses due to his possession of it at such a young age—and the fearsome scars that lined the skin around the ports. However, automail was a technology possessed only by Amestris, so it would be interesting to see how those unfamiliar with it took it.

True to his expectations, the three all looked relatively shocked—Weasley more so than the others. Ed assumed that their nation must have _some_ sort of prosthetic, though not quite as advanced (after all, which ones were?), since they didn't seem _too_ shocked.

"Thank you, Miss Rockbell. That was all very…interesting and…informative," Potter attempted when Winry finally stopped for breath. Weasley and Granger nodded in agreement, but Ed could tell that they all were itching to ask more—probably involving an inquiry into the loss of his limb. "But there has been one thing about Amestris that I have been wondering about, and I will even go so far as to ask for a demonstration. I believe that Mr. Elric here should be glad to oblige…"

"What?" Ed asked, narrowing his eyes. He didn't particularly like the way Potter had phrased his request…it was in that arrogant manner that, once again, reminded him far too much of the Colonel.

"Alchemy, Mr. Elric," Potter said, a reasonable smile spreading across his features.

* * *

**A/N:** Heh, I know I said this was gonna be EdWin, but did I mention Royai, too? Anyway…

Arakawa-sensei beat me to it! No, seriously! In my outline for this chapter, I had a scene freakishly similar to the recent one between Roy and Riza in the manga. Then…Chapter 72 came out and I decided, oh, what the heck; I'll just use that instead. :D

So…in regards to Chapter 72…I wanted to include more of it, but the only things I managed to worm in here were the height things (either Arakawa-sensei didn't get her morning cup of coffee when she drew this, or Ed got taller!) and the Roy/Riza exchange.

Also, due credit goes to Arakawa Hiromu-sensei and the wonderful scanlators over at ZOMGFTA (see my profile for a link) for the quotes up in the Riza section of the chapter.

**Next Time:**  
C_onceit and Fury Chapter Five_  
Roy pays a visit, Riza hides the truth, Pride has several choice words to say to Wrath, and some men's lives are saved by a series of lucky coincidences.


	5. Consultations, or Conceit and Fury

**Culminations**  
_**Chapter Five – Consultations, **_**or**_** Conceit and Fury**_

**Note:** This story will contain spoilers for manga Ch. 73 and up. Links to scanlations can be found in my profile.  
**Disclaimer:** Fullmetal Alchemist (_Hagane no Renkinjutsushi_) belongs to Arakawa Hiromu while Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

* * *

"C-Colonel?" 

"In the flesh. What, aren't you going to invite me in?" he smirked, looking expectantly at the Lieutenant, who stood unabashedly opened-mouthed at his appearance, her gun aimed towards his heart.

"O-of course," Riza stuttered, relaxing her grip on her weapon. She hastily stepped out of the doorway to allow the Colonel room for entrance. "What brings you here at this hour, Colonel? Surely the flowers could have waited until the morning."

"Ah, the truth was," he admitted with a sigh, stepping onto the mat, "I needed an inconspicuous excuse to meet with you in private to discuss some tidings. After all, I couldn't take the risk of saying over the phone that I actually bought the flowers in exchange for information. Well, that and the fact that I really _did_ have an excess of bouquets." He laughed sheepishly, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his head. "I didn't expect you to_ not_ have a vase, so I brought one instead. I hope you'll accept."

Riza nodded dumbly and led him into the kitchen. She should have realized that he had had some ulterior motive in calling (other than a wish to unload a portion of flowers upon her), but had obviously been slightly too stressed at the time to recognize it. Hopefully, though, engaging Roy in conversation would keep him from noticing the cut on her cheek. "How did you find my address, sir?"

She poured him a cup of tea.

"Elementary, Lieutenant. It is quite a simple task for a colonel such as myself to look in military records, where one of the information fields is 'Current Residence'."

"You do know that private residences are not necessarily secure, sir."

She set the tea down in front of him.

"I assumed that you would have taken at least moderate methods to secure your own home," he frowned.

"Of course," Riza confirmed, "But you never know who—or _what_—may be watching from the shadows."

She turned to sit across from him, giving the Colonel a full view of her right cheek.

"Lieutenant…How did you get that scratch?"

'_Damnit!'_ she cursed uncharacteristically. "I ran into a thorn bush when I was out walking Hayate," she lied swiftly, taking a sip of her tea.

"It looks awfully deep to have been—"

"The spines were _particularly_ sharp, sir. What did you want to inform me of?" It was a blatant change of subject and they both knew it.

"An old lady flower seller happens to be fairly well versed in affairs of the north," the Colonel told her. "She's informed me that the Northern Cliff of Briggs has taken interest in the Eastern army and is seeking an alliance." He smiled. "Even Olivier knows when it is best to cease being independent. She wishes to make use of her defensive powers in collaboration with our offensive ones in order to take the initiative."

"Really?" Riza asked. "And who _is_ this informant of yours, sir?"

"A servant of the Armstrong family, she says. It seems that even Olivier in her snowy confines has sensed the doom impending upon this country," Roy mused, cradling his cup.

"Wasn't Edward going to go north?" Riza wondered, remembering that Major Armstrong had mentioned he had given the boy a letter of introduction addressed to his sister. Not that, knowing Olivier, it would do much good.

"Hmm…So Fullmetal is at Briggs… Perhaps Olivier is not as omniscient as she would appear."

"Do you believe that he would have informed her of the situation in Central?" Riza asked, trying to remember what she had seen of the woman during their joint training sessions with the North back when they were still at East Headquarters. There had been some soldiers there with very decent aim, even such as to rival her own, she recalled, and it had been rumored that Olivier's swordsmanship could match that of Fuehrer President Bradley himself.

"Olivier…can be very…persuasive at times," the Colonel replied, choosing his words carefully. "In a manner quite opposite that of her brother."

"I see," Riza responded, taking a mouthful of tea. It was some of the weak green variety that was left over from her move to Central.

"So you think that he and Alphonse told her everything?"

"I doubt _everything_, but certainly enough to sate her appetite. And if she were already black, that would be far too much," Roy said, tapping his fingers against the table. The idea of the great strength of the North being turned against them was not a particularly pleasant notion.

"Can the blackness of military command reach as far as the Northern Cliff of Briggs?" Riza pointed out. Briggs generally attempted to stay as detached from Central as possible.

"Apparently it can—and is doing so," the Colonel said grimly. "One of my informants told me that Kimblee and Raven have appeared at the base of the mountain…Kimblee with serious injuries that were miraculously healed upon Raven's arrival. I don't think that there is much doubt that they will make their way to the Major General's domain."

Riza frowned. She knew just what type of people his 'informants' were, and had always doubted their reliability. She never voiced this opinion, but realized that Roy suspected it.

"She's trustworthy," he reassured her. "I've always gotten good information from her."

Riza nodded curtly once to show her acceptance of this fact.

"Well," Roy announced, pushing back his chair in preparation to depart, "it would appear that something is stewing at Briggs."

* * *

"Wrath." 

"Isn't this fairly conspicuous, Pride? Father has given us explicit instructions _not_ to talk about 'business' in public." If the Fuehrer's mansion counted as such.

"It couldn't wait, I'm afraid. Would you prefer that I call you 'Father' for the time being and that you call me 'Selim'? Then it would mere seem to be a normal 'father to son' exchange."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Pride," Wrath, more publicly known as Fuehrer President King Bradley, responded.

"Mustang's woman—Hawkeye—knows." The speaker was the homunculus Pride, also recognized as Selim Bradley, the Fuehrer's son. How ironic that the youngest of the Homunculi in appearance was actually the oldest and played the role of the 'son' of the eldest in visage but (formerly) youngest in age.

"About us? That isn't overly surprising," Wrath replied mildly, continuing his walk down the arched corridor.

"No," Pride corrected, taking larger steps to keep up with the taller man. "About _me_. Mother talks too much."

"Is that so?" Wrath mused. "I assume that you warned her to keep quiet about it and not to inform her meddlesome Colonel or their friends?"

"Of course," Pride confirmed. Stopping in his tracks, he turned to face his junior. "And on the topic of 'meddlesome', you need to watch your actions, Wrath."

"Are you referring to the orders I issued to Fullmetal?" the Homunculus asked.

"_What do you think?_" Pride demanded, loosing his normally calm, almost childish exterior. "I deigned not to report your earlier transgressions to Father out of what one might call affection for my younger brother, but don't think I'll let it slide this time. _What were you thinking?_ The boy is essential to our plans. Our choice of human sacrifices is limited. We _need_ the boy to help us complete the northern point of the circle—he's going to be one of the five activating it, after all. Kimblee can deal with the rest, but you have proven that you are willing to set us back by almost two months!"

"It would be improper to assign the foreigners to anyone higher than a colonel or lower than a major," Wrath reasoned.

"You should have just had them _killed_!" Pride growled. "By when it came time for them to return, our plans would be already too far in motion to be halted, and even their country's foolish _'magic'_ would be unable to affect us!"

"As I have said before, Father has orchestrated my life from shortly after my birth. Am I wrong for wanting change?" Wrath challenged, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"We've had this discussion before. It's tolerable when you are merely letting things come to pass, but when you aid and abet them, it becomes unacceptable. You _have_ been living with the humans too long," Pride spat, his childish face twisting into an expression of disgust. If one looked closely, they would notice that his short shadow seemed to writhe and extend a bit, growing slender arms. "You've even started to adopt their foolish ideals."

"Fullmetal is a wildcard, and we don't know what he will do in certain situations," Wrath said seriously. "We can't be positive that we can control him."

"You said you _had_ him in your grasp—with that girl of his, Rockbell!" Pride said, his high-pitched voice distorted with rage.

"Fullmetal is extremely slippery," Wrath warned his senior. "After all, according to Father, he is _Van Hohenheim's _son. He could wreck everything."

"And you're just giving him an opportunity to do so. If I didn't know any better, I would say that you were siding with the humans." Pride looked like a child who had just been instructed to eat a particularly unpleasant food. "Pathetic creatures."

"We Homunculi are not in such a good shape ourselves," Wrath pointed out. "After all, Lust and Gluttony are dead and Greed is likely to abandon us once again."

"If your position were not vital to our plans, you would be dead as well for your heretical thoughts, Wrath," Pride assured him.

"Think of it as a form of entertainment," Wrath reasoned, raising his brows with a smile. "It will be amusing to see what those primitive creatures can come up with if they are allowed to be free of the yoke."

"Too much is at stake to consider it mere entertainment—" The sound of quickly approaching footsteps echoing in the hallway cut off Pride's furious comment.

Just as a panting soldier came into view, the first Homunculus switched on his 'innocent little boy' mask, fixing a happy grin on his face. Wrath in turn fixed his features into the expression of an indulgent parent.

"Urgent message for the Fuehrer President!" the man shouted.

"Okay, Father," 'Selim' bubbled, "I'll let you go attend to your business now, but remember what I said about the _project_ Tutor gave me!"

"Alright, Selim, I shall," 'King Bradley' responded, nodding amiably, all traces of resentment between the two lost within the masks.

And then, slipping easily into their alternate personas, the two Homunculi swept off in opposite directions after a no more than brief nod to each other.

* * *

Major Miles had led them silently to their rooms, his only attempt at speech being when he handed them three keys, explaining that the two with a dab of blue paint were for the door on the right (assigned to the men), with the key splotched with magenta belonging to the door on the left (for the lady). 

Now, the Trio was gathered in the men's room (because that one had _two_ beds). Harry was pacing the length of the small enclosure while Hermione and Ron were perched on the latter's bed.

"So, what did you think, mate?" Ron asked Harry, who paused in his pacing and looked up as his friend spoke.

"About what?"

"I dunno. About everything in general. Elric, Alphonse, that Kimblee guy, and the rest," Ron replied with a shrug.

"I suppose…" Harry frowned, considering his next words. "I got the impression that Kimblee was threatening Elric."

"You did?" Hermione asked, sounding surprised. "I thought so, too, but there didn't appear to be any reason for him to do so."

"'If you were worried for their safety, I assure you that no harm will befall them as long as you do not give it due reason to,'" Harry quoted. "Sounds rather fishy, doesn't it?"

"Is stuff like that even legal?" Ron wondered. "I'm pretty sure that the Ministry doesn't allow it."

"Just because it isn't allowed doesn't mean people don't do it, Ron," Hermione reminded him seriously. "We've experience enough of government corruptness in the past, haven't we?"

"That's what I don't get!" Ron added. "People talk about the 'government' and the 'military' here as if they were one and the same. Shouldn't there be _some_ sort of line between the two?"

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Didn't you listen to Tonks' briefings on Amestrian governmental status? It's a military dictatorship."

"Don't see how I'm supposed to remember tiny details like that," Ron muttered mutinously.

"So," Harry announced, carefully changing the subject to avoid a spat between his two friends, "if we really have as little chance at success here as Elric seems to think, do you think that it would just be better to quit wasting time and just go home?"

"No," Hermione said at once. "Considering that we haven't received an _official_ response yet, that could be considered rude."

"And with Amestris being as volatile as it is—" Harry agreed, catching onto her drift.

"—We probably would do best not to get on their bad side," the woman finished.

"Why Amestris, anyway?" Ron wondered. "I doubt that the Ministry didn't know they were in all these wars. And after all, there are a _lot_ of other dimensions they could have gone to for help."

"Probably because of their military strength," Hermione explained. "And their alchemic power as well."

"We have alchemy," Ron pointed out. "Remember Nicholas Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone way back in first year? But really, what is alchemy useful for, unless you want a bunch of gold to buy weapons or want to create an immortal army?"

"Our world's study of alchemy was concentrated entirely on the creation of the Philosopher's Stone," Hermione sniffed. "Amestrian alchemy is a much broader subject and they've taken it to far greater lengths. Anyway, the Philosopher's Stone is only a legend here."

"How is theirs better than ours when _we_ were the ones who created the Philosopher's Stone?" Ron wondered. "Besides, care to explain just what their 'broader' alchemy that they've taken to 'far greater lengths' _is_?"

"That's just it," Hermione frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion. "I don't know."

"'You don't know?'" Harry repeated, staring at her. She had kept going on and on about the topic, and even though neither he nor Ron had understood a word, they had both assumed the _she_ at least had.

"I read all the descriptions I could find, but the simplest ones simply said some nonsense about 'science' and 'equivalent exchange', but never mentioned what exactly you could do with it, while the more detailed ones tended to go into a lot of muggle science and math. And even though I'm muggleborn, I never had enough formal training in a muggle school to understand it all."

"Wow, something even our Hermione can't figure out!" Ron exclaimed jokingly. "Now I _really_ wonder what it is!"

"Why don't we go find Elric?" Harry suggested. "After all, he _is_ a state alchemist, so he ought to have some answers."

With some help from soldiers around the fortress, the three wizards (and witch) managed to fine the room scrawled on the paper that Elric had given them.

To the Trio's surprise, the door was closed and voices could be heard seeping softly from within. One was clearly identifiable as belonging to Elric, while the other one was an anonymous feminine tone which appeared to be about the same age as the state alchemist.

Hermione, clearly not wanting to interrupt whatever was going on within, turned to walk away, but was beckoned back by Ron's hissed whisper of, "'Mione!" before she could take more than two steps.

Both of her male friends had their ears pressed upon the door (they had unfortunately forgotten to bring any Extendable Ears) and were motioning for her to join them.

With a glare and a sigh, Hermione followed their lead.

Since the doors of Briggs appeared to be pretty thick, they had trouble discerning much of the conversation. Only broken fragments could be heard: something about 'Humkli', some guy (a colonel, maybe) named 'Mustang', and other bits of nonsense. Harry tired to puzzle some sense out of it, but to no avail; the pieces of discussion were beyond him. He glanced up at Ron and Hermione to see if they were having any luck. Sadly, the two shook their heads. They were fairing no better.

Sighing, the three replaced their ears on the door, but there was no need; there was a '_CLANG!' _and the next few sentences were shouted loud and clear.

"Are you insulting my automail, you jerk?!"

"Did I ever say that, automail freak?"

"You implied it, alchemy geek!"

"Hmph! At least you can't call me _short_ anymore!" That was definitely Elric's triumphant tone.

"Oh, _yes_ I can!" the girl exclaimed haughtily. "Now at least you're average height—for a woman, that is!"

"WHO'RE YOU CALLING SO SHORT HE COULD BE MISTAKEN FOR A CUTE LITTLE GIRL?!"

Woah! Who knew that Elric could surpass Harry in 'angry teenager' vocal cords?

Finally, though, the conversation quieted down, and before long, footsteps approached the door and Elric could be heard saying, "Well, I guess that I ought to go pick up those foreigners and start on that stupid tour."

Gulping, the three 'foreigners' looked at each other nervously. None of them thought that it would be a good idea to let themselves be caught eavesdropping, based off of what they had previously heard of Elric's personality (or more specifically, temper).

Hurriedly, the three rushed back to their room, praying that they would get there before Elric did.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay…this is getting annoying now. I had already typed up a scene with Buccaneer and Henschel for this chapter when Chapter 73 came out with Sensei appearing to have had a similar idea (yet again). So, I had to cut that out and put the beginning section of Ch. 6 in its place. grr! 

As for chapter notes, I hope that the Wrath/Pride exchange satisfied you as to _why_ in the world Ed has this mission in the first place. I also happen to view Pride's relationship with Wrath (as based off of the conversation in Vol. 12) as that of a rather doting older brother who is willing to be slightly lenient, but is unafraid to take a firm hand, so I hope that you think that this was IC. But don't think that because Wrath is heretical, he's going to in anyway actively support the humans (he's confident that Father will be able to counter anything Ed and co. can think up; he just isn't telling Pride XD).

Also, I'm going to be turning 13 soon! (Yay! A teenager at last!) I wanted to update on my birthday, but I felt guilty making you all wait, and knowing my precarious schedule…yeah, it's better that I update now. :) So that's why you're getting this update when you are!

**A Reminder of Current Manga Events That Fit into the **_**Culminations**_** AU:**  
-Kimblee (had) ordered Ed to 'carve a crest of blood' on Briggs.  
-Selim Bradley is Pride and Riza knows.  
-Roy called up Riza to ask offer her flowers and ask if she's doing okay.  
-Ed is taller than Winry now. (I swear he got shorter in the most recent chapter--but then, that could just be me)  
-Buccaneer and co. returned from the tunnel after 24 hours, but Armstrong gave the lookout group a busted watch. (I loved that part. XD)  
-Other things that I may or may not bring in: Armstrong's removal from Briggs and Father's scene at the end of the chapter.

**Next Time:**  
_Opinions and Transmutations, Chapter Six_  
Harry and his followers give their take on the tour and have queries about alchemy.


	6. Opinions and Transmutations

**Culminations**  
_**Chapter Six – Opinions and Transmutations**_

**Note:** This story will contain spoilers for manga Ch. 73 and up and the gaiden Simple People. Links to scanlations can be found in my profile.  
**Disclaimer:** Fullmetal Alchemist (_Hagane no Renkinjutsushi_) belongs to Arakawa Hiromu while Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

* * *

The Trio had managed to make it back to their rooms in plenty of time. But that was probably due to the fact that _they_ knew the way back to their rooms and Elric apparently did not, if his surly, frustrated expression when he finally arrived was any indication

By the time Elric came stomping angrily into Harry and Ron's room followed by a smug-looking blonde girl, the three wizards had already settled themselves on the beds, engaged each other in conversation, and made sure they looked decidedly _un_-out-of-breath.

"Ah, hello again, Mr. Elric," Harry drawled, putting back on the 'arrogant Auror' persona.

Elric glared.

Whoops. Maybe this _wasn't _the time to test their guide's limits. Harry decided that perhaps it was time to change tactics…a bit.

"We were just about to go looking for you," Harry lied in a more pleasant tone. "I suppose that it's time for our tour to begin?"

"Yeah," Elric nodded.

Meanwhile, Hermione hadn't waited for Harry to introduce them to Elric's friend, assuming (correctly) that he probably wouldn't get around to it. She shook hands with the younger blonde, saying, "Hi! I'm Hermione Granger. The other two are my friends and associates, Harry Potter, who's the one talking to Mr. Elric, and Ron Weasley, who's still sitting on the bed."

The girl smiled in return, "I'm Winry Rockbell, Ed's childhood friend and mechanic. It's nice to meet you."

Hermione frowned ever so slightly, probably at the mention of 'mechanic', which had Harry confused a bit, too. The girl most certainly did not look like the thickset, muscular men and women generally found in muggle auto shops.

Elric, meanwhile, glanced warily at Rockbell. "You aren't going to start curling your hair now, are you?" he asked, surveying Hermione's bushy hair with a great deal of caution.

Rockbell glared back at him. "I'm not _that_ impressionable, you know!" she harrumphed, one hand reaching up to finger her many earrings in a rather possessive manner.

"Hmph, simple people, simple reasons," Elric snorted before turning away. "C'mon." He beckoned towards the Trio.

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione to see as if they were as lost as he was. Hermione responded with an imperceptible shake of her head and Ron agreed with an equally minute shrug of his shoulders. Apparently so.

Shrugging the matter off as an inside exchange between two friends, Harry and company followed Elric and Rockbell out of the room, Harry pausing briefly to lock the door behind them.

As they walked, Elric explained, "Winry's going to be staying here a while for various…reasons, so she decided that it'd be best if I, uh, _showed her around_ while I do the same for you guys." Based off of Elric's slightly shifty and rather nervous expression, and upon what they had overheard earlier, it was fairly obvious that this was a bending of the truth.

_Ah,_ Harry thought. _So that explains why she's here. And I guess that 'reasons' simply sounded better than 'as a hostage', since Kimblee wasn't exactly being discreet._

The tour went by surprisingly quickly; Harry got the feeling that Elric had as little idea of where they were going as they themselves did. The boy constantly had to ask around for directions and his 'interesting factoids' that he put in every once in a while never seemed to be too numerous or too detailed. They passed by the dorms, where soldiers still lingering about hurried to throw their rooms into some semblance of order. They took a brief trip through the cafeteria, where cooks were cooking…_something_. If brown globs of _stuff_ even counted as food.

Several stops later, they ended up at the medical room.

It was a surgically clean white space packed with all manner of objects, from sinks to bookshelves to all sorts of mechanical knickknacks. A couple of white-coated men and women lingered around (it was lunch time, so most sensible people were off getting a bite to eat—Harry's stomach growled fitfully in agreement), seeing to various tasks around the room, such as wiping down surfaces or organizing scattered drawers. They raised a hand in greeting to Elric and Rockbell, who were apparently no strangers to the location, before returning to the chore they had previously been attending to.

Elric settled his tour group in an abandoned corner and started to explain about 'automail', which appeared to be the Amestrian version of a prosthetic limb. The magical community was far from being a stranger to such replacements (Mad-Eye Moody being a key example). Limbs could be reattached, bones painfully re-grown, skin arduously replaced…but if there was no foundation, a new limb could not be conjured out of nowhere. Curse wounds, in particular, gave Healers a nasty spot of trouble. After all, the human body was a delicate thing that did not take well to physical disruptions.

Elric was elaborating upon northern-use automail, which, by the sound of it, was of considerably different make from the normal type. Rockbell, however, cut her friend off, insisting that _she_ take over the explanation at this point.

And when she did…well, Harry hoped that Hermione was paying attention, because he could not understand a word of it. It also explained the 'mechanic' comment quite well.

Ron's eyes had already started to glaze over in a sort of standing snooze and Harry was thinking that a waking doze might not be too poor of a decision when Rockbell commanded, "Ed, take your shirt off."

The boy blushed furiously and managed to stammer out an embarrassed reply. Harry couldn't help but wonder whether there was more going on between the two than they let on.

"I want to show them your automail. Hurry up!"

Was that a glint of metal in her hand?

Still flushing a stunning shade of tomato, Elric submitted to the girl's command.

Now Harry understood the title 'Fullmetal' and why Elric wore long sleeves and gloves even within the relative warmth of Briggs Fortress. His entire right arm was made of metal—the very same automail that Rockbell had gone on so eloquently about earlier. It_was_ quite an impressive thing to see and Harry couldn't retain the small look of surprise that flickered across his face. To his left, Ron, whose experience with artificial limbs extended about as far as Moody's wooden leg, allowed a fairly broad look of shock spread across his features. On his right, Hermione managed to keep a look of polite interest, but released a muffled, but startled gasp nonetheless; although a fair amount of the connection between flesh and steel was obscured by the broad black strap, the neckline of Elric's undershirt still allowed for a large amount of the area to be seen. Where metal arm met skin was lined with a number of scars that bode ill for any hopes of a clean and relatively painless loss of limb.

Elric, despite the expressions of his onlookers, seemed unfazed, instead choosing to survey his audience as if to gauge their reactions, though the blush still remained spread across his cheeks as Rockbell leaned over him to point to a section of his arm.

"Even then though my grandmother did the original design for Ed's arm, I'm the one responsible for all subsequent designs and repairs. See here, this is the outer plating; it protects the wiring and gearing systems within. I have to make it extra sturdy for Ed, since he's constantly wrecking his automail." She frowned disapprovingly at the said boy. "And look at the joints; they're almost more maneuverable than those of a normal arm. I can't take the arm apart while he's wearing it, but there's a complex system of gears inside that let it rotate and bend properly. And here, at the shoulder, this is where the automail connects into the metal port which we place where the missing limb was." She traced where the automail met skin with her fingertips. Elric grew even redder than before, if it was possible, and seemed to be muttering a dogged mantra under his breath. "Automail requires connection with the actual nerves themselves as I already told you, so automail surgery—"

Well, Harry had to admit that it was all easier to understand with a visual aid. Hermione was peering at the prosthetic with such intensity Harry got the feeling she was wishing she had a spare scrap of parchment and a quill with which to take notes. Even Ron had perked up a bit, glancing at the arm in interest.

Finally, Rockbell, who seemed as if she could babble aimlessly on forever about her favorite subject, paused to wipe off a film of glistening sweat that had developed upon her forehead and tried to catch her breath a little.

Harry snatched up the opportunity to say, "Thank you, Miss Rockbell. That was all very…interesting and…informative." He tried to indicate that they had had enough without being too rude. After all, neither he, Ron, nor Hermione were missing any limbs, nor were they intending on loosing any in the foreseeable future, and most importantly, they lived in a dimension where automail and the mechanics that cared for it had yet to come into being.

Of course, he (and probably Ron and Hermione, too) were _really_ wondering how _Elric_ had managed to lose his arm.

However, information that was crucial to their 'mission' came before personal indulges, so Harry posed the question that had inspired their rather unfruitful visit to Elric's (or was it Rockbell's?) room that had morphed into a rather dishonest muggle eavesdropping meet.

"But there has been one thing about Amestris that I have been wondering about, and I will even go so far as to ask for a demonstration. I believe that Mr. Elric here should be glad to oblige…"

"What?" Elric noticeably stiffened and Harry cursed his stupidity; he had forgotten that Elric apparently did not take well to Harry's 'media-persona'.

_Oh well_, Harry thought irritably. _It's too late to change my attitude now._ In fact, Harry undergoing a sudden personality change would probably disturb and alienate the boy even more than anything he was already doing.

Taking the plunge, Harry completed his request, allowing himself a slow, controlled (and extremely false) smile. "Alchemy, Mr. Elric."

Elric remained tense, although he did allow his posture to relax…a little.

"Why?" Elric's voice was laced with distrust. He obviously was going to press Harry for every last piece of information he could before actually revealing anything.

_Gyaah!_ Harry grumbled to himself. _Why do teenagers have to be so damn suspicious? And stubborn, too, for that matter!_ Funny how he so conveniently forgot—or ignored—just exactly how _he_ behaved at the precarious age of fifteen.

"Part of our government's interest in forming an alliance with Amestris is because of the power of your state alchemists," Hermione explained, taking over command of Harry's dangerously teetering train of thought. Perhaps she could tell that he would end up making a complete mess of the situation. "Although our chances of success in this venture may be slim, we are quite fascinated by this, erm,_science_ and find that a practical demonstration would allow us a better understanding than just written descriptions."

Ah, Hermione just had a way with words that he never would. Shame, it was.

Elric seemed almost flattered—but his gaze was not veiled in the least by Hermione's complimenting proclamation. However, Harry _did_ note a slight sense of relief surround the boy; he was probably happy to get the topic of discussion back into an area where _he_ was the master.

"What type of alchemy did you want to see?" Elric asked warily, pulling his shirt back on with a slight blush. He stretched out his arm to make sure it had survived Rockbell's tinkering unharmed, rotating it this way and that. Rockbell looked on in annoyance towards the implied slight on her competency.

_What type?_ Harry hadn't thought that far ahead. "Well, you're the, er, 'Fullmetal Alchemist', right? Show us whatever type of alchemy _you_do."

Elric grew a fairly devious grin and Harry wondered whether he was going to regret asking. Hermione elbowed him and whispered, "_Pay attention!_"

Harry guiltily directed his focus back to the matter at hand, feeling as if he were back in school—only the 'professor' was five years his junior.

Elric clapped his hands together—once, in the brisk manner a teacher uses to call his class to attention. He quickly moved his left hand out of the way, a movement that was almost invisible in the resulting flash of light—and for good reason. Seemingly out of the boy's sleeve shot a short, sharp, and very obviously lethal blade. Close inspection proved that the blade extended from the covering-plate of the automail arm and was melded to the back of Elric's hand, but ingeniously enough, still allowed for complete mobility of the fingers. Harry couldn't help but wonder whether the boy had ever had to kill someone with it. The nice thing about curses was that they, like guns in the muggle world, allowed for a certain amount of detachment when committing the kill. Even the thought of having to shove your _arm_ through someone's chest made Harry feel sick to his stomach.

"_Wow…_" Ron breathed.

Harry nodded in agreement and felt the need to push his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, while Hermione's eyebrows shot straight up into her bushy hair. "No incantation…!" she whispered admiringly.

Elric had an annoyingly smug look on his face as he clapped his hands again, this time to allow the blade to retreat back into his arm.

"So, uh, is that all your alchemy can do?" Harry attempted, awed in spite of himself.

Elric snorted. "No! Of course not!" He clapped his hands a third time, now pressing them to the floor. The concrete shot up, again with a flash of light. It twisted and turned until it took the form of a giant hand, which swooped up to encompass Rockbell in its mighty fist. The girl poorly attempted to stifle a shriek. Elric smirked at his audience. _Is this his revenge for the tour and the automail lecture?_ Harry wondered. Ron seemed to be attempting to contain a fit of laughter—he had his knuckles stuffed awkwardly into his mouth. Hermione merely looked disapproving.

One of the doctors? Automail mechanics? (Harry wasn't sure) poked his head over and said lazily, "Edward, be sure to put the floor back to normal," just as Rockbell screamed, "_Edward Elric! Put me down this instant!!_"

Elric grinned rather sheepishly. "I suppose I went a little bit overboard, didn't I?" he admitted, clapping his hands and allowing the floor to slide back into its normal pristine smoothness.

Stumbling to her feet, Rockbell turned to face her friend full on, her face red with rage. "_Ed! How _dare_ you do that!_" This time, Harry had the opportunity to confirm that the glistening object in her hand really was metal—a muggle wrench in fact…right before it flew on a collision course with Elric's skull.

* * *

**A/N:**I'm so sorry for not updating in so long! Has it really been four and a half months since I last updated?! Man! I would love to blame it on school, ballet, music (cello and piano), Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann (best anime in existence!) and kendo (Best. Martial art. EVER!! …'cept for perhaps aikido), but that wouldn't really be fair; it's really only my own procrastination, after all. I'm not done with the next chapter, either. I've really got to start thinking about where this story is gonna go…and how AU (based on recent manga events) to make it.

…on the bright side, two of my friends and I did manage to sneak Ed, Winry, Hohenheim, toddler!Al, Mustang, Hawkeye, and kinda Elysia onto the banner we painted for our thanksgiving banquet. Not very many people got the joke (dunno if that's a good or a bad thing… O.o)


	7. Disagreements and Compromises

**Culminations**

_**Chapter Seven – Disagreements and Compromises**_

**Note:** This story will contain spoilers for manga Volume 18.

**Disclaimer:** Fullmetal Alchemist (_Hagane no Renkinjutsushi_) belongs to Arakawa Hiromu while Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

**A/N:** I have a lot of explaining to do, don't I? :(

Please read the note at the end of the chapter.

* * *

Ed's head was recovering nicely from the blow that Winry had dealt him and the Foreigners, as Ed had taken to calling them, had been at Briggs for precisely two days short of a week. Potter had been insufferable the entire time, even when making an effort to be amicable and Ed was seriously reconsidering his previous evaluations of Weasley's intelligence levels, but Granger had made it all bearable by being polite and honestly interested in the little bit of information he was able to provide them with.

Ed had, surprisingly enough, managed to find something to keep them occupied after the initial tour with a bit of help. Falman was a lifesaver, Ed decided. He really needed to thank the man the next chance he got. The alchemist cackled silently at the thought of Mustang loosing such a valuable resource to Major General Armstrong.

Now, with only two days left to fill, Ed had decided to take the Foreigners into the surrounding wilds…maybe Potter would get eaten by a bear and he'd be able to pass the "auror's" (Ed stumbled slightly over the strange word) death off as an accident. Of course, that was unlikely since he had managed to convince Kimblee and Major General Armstrong to let Al come along, claiming that his little brother would be of great help if they managed to encounter Scar. Unfortunately, this also meant that it would be terribly unconvincing if two seasoned alchemists claimed that a bear had made off with one of their charges, especially considering who their sensei was (if Izumi's stories were to be believed). Not to mention the fact that Al would never let him get away with causing their guests undue bodily harm.

Winry, too, had managed to worm her way into tagging along with them, using the excuse that she was _extremely_ dedicated to her customers and Ed in particular. A few bats of her eyelashes and the determined set of her shoulders had sealed the deal.

Ed had mixed feelings about her presence, not minding it, of course (even if it occasionally evoked rather uncomfortable thoughts), but he still worried about her safety, despite the fact that both he and Al would willingly sacrifice themselves in her place at any time. It was, though, he mused, an improvement over having Kimblee hovering over her. He shuddered at the very thought.

Winry had been particularly vehement in her desire to accompany them after learning where they were headed. Major Miles, taking pity on Ed, suggested that he bring them to an old mining town a short distance away from Briggs. According to the Major, Scar had been sighted there earlier, but not since the blizzard a few days previously. The Ishvalan was said to have been seen in the company of the Rentanjutsu-bean-girl and one Dr. Tim Marcoh. If they came into contact with them, Miles had warned, they were to avoid conflict if at all possible. However, it would be best if they did not encounter Scar at all while they were with the Foreigners; having an avenging mass-murderer running unchecked around the country in the company of an illegal immigrant and an ex-military officer didn't look pretty on _any_ resume.

Ed was currently stretched out on his bed, reviewing a map of the Briggs region while nursing a cup of the fort's horrendously over-priced and tasteless coffee. He scowled into the murky light brown liquid. He normally drank his coffee black, but the sheer disgustingness of it had forced him to reluctantly stir in some creamer and sugar. It was not much of an improvement.

The mine was a fair number of miles away and Kimblee had kindly (read: forcibly) offered to give them a ride. He had declined accompanying them himself, though; there was no need. After all, who would be crazy enough to attempt to brave the wilds Briggs even when desperate for freedom? Well, besides that one Drachman soldier from a while back, of course. But that woman? (the rumors varied) was an exception; the Elric brothers _obviously_ would not attempt to escape, especially in the company of three foreigners and a girl.

Yeah, and if Kimblee honestly believed that, he was crazier than Ed originally thought. Ed was already planning Winry's (and possibly Al's, too) escape. Unfortunately, though, he wasn't having much luck. He needed to get them away from Kimblee, but he had to keep them safe nonetheless. Faking their deaths was out of the question, and so were any excuses that involved them being separated. Kimblee knew that Ed would die before he ever let anything of the sort happen.

So it was back to the drawing board. Perhaps he could pretend to fall into some random (courtesy of alchemy) pit, leaving Al and Winry clueless to his whereabouts. They would then wander away. Having obtained a grievous injury through his side from the fall, he would be forced to return directly to Briggs without searching for his two companions. He'd demand a search, but by then Al and Winry would be long gone.

Hah! Fat chance of _that_ plan ever working out. First off, the likelihood of anything remotely similar ever occurring in real life was so slim, it would be viewed as a lie instantaneously. Secondly, he would actually _have to get injured_ in order for it to work out. And lastly, even if the first to arguments were nullified, where would Al and Winry go? And what about those stupid Foreigners (who just _had_ to make everything complicated).

He could always attempt the same plan with a minor reversal of roles, but nah…that would put Winry in danger (Al could take care of himself).

Maybe a blizzard would occur, separating them into three groups…Ed, the Foreigners, and Al and Winry. Ed would return to Briggs, Al and Winry would go…somewhere, and the Foreigners would…return wherever they came from? Nope, that relied too heavily on the weather.

The problems with all of Ed's plans were that he had failed to discover a destination to deport his escapees to, making them all utterly pointless. He did have a favorite scheme, though. It went like this:

Ed encounters bean-girl. Al distracts the foreigners. Ed talks to (read: threatens) bean-girl. Bean-girl attacks with her weird cat. Cat bites Potter to death. With his extreme height advantage, Ed manages to fight off bean-cat, but bean-girl has already made off with Al, Winry, and Potter's corpse. It is Ed's duty to return the two surviving Foreigners to Briggs. Ed also now knows how Xing manages to feed its voracious citizens _and_ prevent its steadily mounting population from spiraling into uncontrollable numbers.

Unfortunately, this plan, like the others, also had its flaws.

Therefore, Ed decided to do what people have done for centuries when faced with an impossible situation.

Wing it.

* * *

The next day, Major Miles came to Ed with bad news. As soon as Ed left with the Foreigners, the Major General would be transferred back to Central and one of enemy would be put in her place.

"It would be sooner," the Major explained, "but Briggs cannot show as great a weakness as a change in command to our guests. The way it has been planned, they would leave without knowledge of the switch."

Ed had cursed under his breath. That limited his choices a bit. Nonetheless, he was determined to carry out his plans to go to the old mine. He obviously wasn't supposed to know about the approaching shift of powers, so any alteration on his part would only look suspicious.

Reluctantly, he slid into the car next to Potter. Due to the increased number of participants, two cars had been given to them for their usage. Ed, Potter, and Weasley were in the first, with Winry, Al, and Granger squeezed together in the second. Both the drivers were Kimblee's lackeys.

The ride was slow and bumpy. Snow still coated the ground from the blizzard a few days previous and the drivers took the road carefully to avoid any accidents on the slippery surface.

Potter and Weasley were talking softly in their oddly accented Amestrian, but Ed didn't bother even trying to eavesdrop. Instead, his thoughts raced as he struggled to think of a way out of their 'imprisonment.'

Despite his struggle to stay on topic, his mind had a tendency to wander. How were Winry and Al faring behind him? Winry had seemed to hit it off with Granger pretty well and Al got along with anyone and everyone. Were those three having some sort of deceptively carefree, laugh-filled conversation? Maybe a debate between alchemy and mechanics? Granger had seemed to be relatively well versed in both topics from an outsider's perspective, which was a great deal more than could be said about Potter and Weasley. She probably knew enough to participate in a discussion about them.

From there, his mind wandered to Lieutenant Hawkeye, locked in the clutches of the homunculus Wrath himself. How was she faring? And Ran Fan, who had gone back to Xing one arm short. Had she and her grandfather reached their destination safely? And of Ling…Greed. Was he still stalking Central?

The jolt of the car as they reached their destination shook Ed from his slightly depressing thoughts. They had arrived at the mine.

* * *

**A/N:** I would like to start off with a big apology for making you wait this long. I've had this chapter sitting on my hard drive for over a year, waiting to be finished. I have finally decided that it is not going to happen. Ever. My reasons why? I've completely lost all interest in HP, and I've dropped out of the FMA fandom. Also, you know how everyone has that "skeleton fic" in their closet? The one posted back when they were 12. For me, that's this one. It's been a long two years :)

**ALSO! PENNAME CHANGE!** In about a week, I'll be changing my penname to **novella814** so that it fits with the rest of my internet pseudonyms.


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